The Invention of Capitalism - Michael Perelman

the invention of capitalism
Michael Perelman

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THE INVENTION OF CAPITALISM
Classical Political Economy and the
Secret History of Primitive Accumulation
michael perelman
Duke University Press • Durham & London 2000

∫ 2000 Duke University Press
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Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper $
Typeset in Trump Mediaeval by Keystone Typesetting, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data appear
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Contents
Introduction: Dark Designs 1
1 The Enduring Importance of Primitive Accumulation 13
2 The Theory of Primitive Accumulation 25
3 Primitive Accumulation and the Game Laws 38
4 The Social Division of Labor and Household Production 59
5 Elaborating the Model of Primitive Accumulation 92
6 The Dawn of Political Economy 124
7 Sir James Steuart’s Secret History of Primitive Accumulation 139
8 Adam Smith’s Charming Obfuscation of Class 171
9 The Revisionist History of Professor Adam Smith 196
10 Adam Smith and the Ideological Role of the Colonies 229
11 Benjamin Franklin and the Smithian Ideology of Slavery and Wage
Labor 254
12 The Classics as Cossacks: Classical Political Economy versus the
Working Class 280
13 The Counterattack 321
14 Notes on Development 352
Conclusion 369
References 371
Index 407

Introduction: Dark Designs
In order to develop the laws of bourgeois economy . . . it is not necessary to write
the real history of the relations of production. But the correct observation and
deduction of these laws . . . always leads to primary equations . . . which point
toward a past lying behind the system. These indications . . . then offer the key to
understanding the past—a work in its own right.—Karl Marx, Grundrisse
Preface
In the development of a theory, the invisible of a visible field is not generally
anything whatever outside and foreign to the visible defined by that field. The
invisible is defined by the visible as its invisible, its forbidden vision: the invisible
is not therefore simply what is outside the visible (to return to the spatial meta-phor),
the outer darkness of exclusion—but the inner darkness of exclusion, inside
the visible itself.—Louis Althusser, ‘‘From Capital to Marx’s Philosophy’’
The Laissez-faire Message of Classical Political Economy
Classical political economy, the core works of economic literature from
the time of William Petty through that of David Ricardo, presents an
imposing facade. The towering figures of early political economy forged a
new way of thinking systematically about economic affairs in the late
seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries with little more than the writ-ings
of business people and moral philosophers to guide them. Every one,
from Karl Marx, who created the term ‘‘classical political economy,’’ to
modern-day conservatives, recognizes the enormous intellectual achieve-ment
of these early economists.
For more than two centuries, successive generations of economists
have been grinding out texts to demonstrate how these early theorists
discovered that markets provide the most efficient method for organizing
production. An uncompromising advocacy of laissez-faire is, ostensibly,
the intended lesson of classical political economy.
Most contemporary readers of Adam Smith, David Ricardo, and the
other classical political economists accept their work at face value, as-suming
these early writers to be uncompromising advocates of laissez-

2
faire. For the most part, even many Marxists accept this interpretation of
classical political economy. Alongside their work on pure economic the-ory,
the classical political economists engaged in a parallel project: to pro-mote
the forcible reconstruction of society into a purely market-oriented
system. While economic historians may debate the depth of involvement
in market activities at the time, the incontestable fact remains that most
people in Britain did not enthusiastically engage in wage labor—at least so
long as they had an alternative.
To make sure that people accepted wage labor, the classical political
economists actively advocated measures to deprive people of their tradi-tional
means of support. The brutal acts associated with the process of
stripping the majority of the people of the means of producing for them-selves
might seem far removed from the laissez-faire reputation of clas-sical
political economy. In reality, the dispossession of the majority of
small-scale producers and the construction of laissez-faire are closely con-nected,
so much so that Marx, or at least his translators, labeled this
expropriation of the masses as ‘‘primitive accumulation.’’
The very sound of the expression, primitive accumulation, drips with
poignant echoes of human consequences. The word ‘‘primitive,’’ first of
all, suggests a brutality lacking in the subtleties of more modern forms of
exploitation. It also implies that primitive accumulation was prior to the
form of accumulation that people generally associate with capitalism.
Finally, it hints at something that we might associate with ‘‘primitive’’
parts of the world, where capital accumulation has not advanced as far as
elsewhere.
The second term, accumulation, reminds us that the primary focus of
the process was the accumulation of capital and wealth by a small sector of
society, or as Marx (1977, 739–40) described it, ‘‘the conquest of the world
of social wealth. It is the extension of the area of exploited human material
and, at the same time, the extension of the indirect and direct sway of the
capitalist.’’ Certainly, at least in the early stages of capitalism, primitive
accumulation was a central element in the accumulation process.
Although many modern scholars acknowledge the pervasive nature
of primitive accumulation during the time that the classical political
economists wrote, nobody to my knowledge has recognized the com-plicity
of the classical political economists. They strongly advocated pol-icies
that furthered the process of primitive accumulation, often through
subterfuge.
While energetically promoting their laissez-faire ideology, they cham-pioned
time and time again policies that flew in the face of their laissez-

introduction 3
faire principles, especially their analysis of the role of small-scale, rural
producers. As we will see, the underlying development strategy of the
classical political economists was consistent with a crude proto-Marxian
model of primitive accumulation, which concluded that nonmarket
forces might be required to speed up the process of capitalist assimilation
in the countryside. This model also explains why most of the classical
political economists expressed positions diametrically opposed to the
theories usually credited to them.
The Secret History of Primitive Accumulation
Perhaps because so much of what the classical economists wrote about
traditional systems of agricultural production was divorced from their
seemingly more timeless remarks about pure theory, later readers have
passed over such portions of their works in haste. Although this aspect of
classical political economy might have seemed to fall outside the core of
the subject, I argue that these interventionist recommendations were a
significant element in the overall thrust of their works. Specifically, clas-sical
political economy advocated restricting the viability of traditional
occupations in the countryside to coerce people to work for wages.
Chapter 1, which deals with the history of primitive accumulation,
demonstrates the classical political economists’ keen interest in driving
rural workers from the countryside and into factories, compelling work-ers
to do the bidding of those who would like to employ them, and eradi-cating
any sign of sloth.
The vitality of these rural producers generally rested on a careful com-bination
of industrial and agricultural pursuits. Despite the efficiency of
this arrangement, classical political economy was intent on throttling
small producers. Classical political economists often justified their posi-tion
in terms of the efficiency of the division of labor. They called for
measures that would actively promote the separation of agriculture and
industry. As we shall see, Marx’s concept of the social division of labor is
very important in this respect. In contrast to Smith’s exclusive emphasis
on the division of labor—the arrangement of work within the firm—Marx
suggested that we also examine the deployment of resources between
individual firms and households—the social division of labor.
Classical political economists paid virtually no attention to the social
division of labor in their theoretical works. For example, although Smith
offered a detailed description of the division of labor in his famous pin
factory, he did not bother to extend his discussion. What does it mean that

4
society is partitioned in such a way that the pin industry purchases its
metals or fuels instead of producing them itself? How does such an ar-rangement
originate? Could such changes in the pattern of industries
make a difference in an economy, even if technology were unchanging?
These questions were so distant from the purview of classical political
economy that more than two centuries later, Ronald Coase won a Nobel
Prize for bringing them to the attention of mainstream economists. Fol-lowing
in the wake of Coase, a group of modern economists developed the
new institutionalist school of economics (see Perelman 1991a), which
contends that economic forces naturally arrange themselves into some
optimal pattern. Like many other economists, the new institutionalist
school takes pride in locating anticipations of its work in classical politi-cal
economy, especially in the thought of Smith. Even though the new
institutionalist school concerns itself with the social division of labor, its
theories are of no use in analyzing the coercive nature of primitive ac-cumulation,
since this school sees the economy arranging itself through
voluntary contracts.
Chapter 2 concentrates on the theory of primitive accumulation. Most
discussions of primitive accumulation address the subject as a shorthand
expression for describing the brutality of the initial burst of capitalism. In
contrast, this chapter makes the case for treating primitive accumulation
as an essential theoretical concept in analyzing the ongoing process of
capitalist accumulation.
I suspected that the continuing silence about the social division of labor
might have something important to reveal. Following this line of inves-tigation,
I looked at what classical political economy had to say about the
peasantry and self-sufficient agriculturalists. Here again, the pattern was
consistent.
The classical political economists were unwilling to trust market forces
to determine the social division of labor because they found the tenacity of
traditional rural producers to be distasteful. Rather than contending that
market forces should determine the fate of these small-scale producers,
classical political economy called for state interventions of one sort or
another to hobble these people’s ability to produce for their own needs.
These policy recommendations amounted to a blatant manipulation of
the social division of labor.
We cannot justify such policies on the basis of efficiency. If efficiency
were of great importance to them, the classical political economists would
not have ignored the law permitting the gentry to ride across small farm-ers’
fields in pursuit of foxes while forbidding the farmers from ridding
their land of game that might eat the crops. As we shall see in Chapter 3,

introduction 5
these Game Laws destroyed an enormous share of the total agricultural
produce.
Chapter 3 describes the extraordinary history of the Game Laws. Al-though
the origin of the Game Laws was feudal, their application and
their ferocity peaked during the Industrial Revolution. They were a useful
instrument to separate rural people from a major source of sustenance,
adding considerable weight to the pressures to accept wage labor. They
also incited many poor people in the countryside to rebel.
Chapter 4 discusses the relationship between primitive accumulation
and the social division of labor from the standpoint of self-provisioning.
Chapter 5 analyzes classical political economy’s implicit proto-Marxian
theory of primitive accumulation. In addition, it discusses the pattern of
practical measures that altered the social division of labor to the detri-ment
of independent and small-scale producers. This chapter also dis-cusses
how classical political economy applied the calculus of primitive
accumulation. It details the relationship between early classical political
economy and the rural population with an eye toward efforts to create a
capitalistic social division of labor. It demonstrates the continual impor-tance
that classical political economy placed on the process of primitive
accumulation.
The Secret History of Classical Political Economy
Why has the social division of labor as an aspect of primitive accumula-tion
gone unnoticed for so long by so many students of classical political
economy? True, the classical political economists generally maintained
their silence regarding primitive accumulation when discussing matters
of pure economic theory—although they were not absolutely consistent
in this regard.
Because of the novelty of their subject, these writers were not entirely
in control of their own ideas. Specifically, I found that classical political
economy openly expressed its dissatisfaction with the existing social divi-sion
of labor quite clearly in diaries, letters, and more practical writings
about contemporary affairs. This discovery led me to give a substantially
new reading to the history of classical political economy.
In their unguarded moments, the intuition of the classical political
economists led them to openly express important insights of which they
may have been only vaguely, if at all, aware. As a result, they let the idea of
the social division of labor surface from time to time even in their more
theoretical works. The subject typically cropped up when they were ac-knowledging
that the market seemed incapable of engaging the rural pop-

6
ulation fast enough to suit them—or more to the point, that people were
resisting wage labor. Much of this discussion touched on what we now
call primitive accumulation.
Although these slips flew in the face of the laissez-faire theory of classi-cal
political economy, they add much to the value of that literature. In-deed,
if classical political economy were nothing more than a conscious
attempt to come to grips with and justify the emerging forces of capital-ism,
it would have far less contemporary interest.
Just as a psychologist might detect a crucial revelation in a seemingly
offhand remark of a patient, from time to time classical political economy
discloses to us insights into its program that the classical political econo-mists
would not consciously welcome. These insights will reinforce the
conclusions that we draw from their diaries, letters, and more practical
writings.
The Invention of Capitalism is novel in four major respects. First, it
addresses the question of what determines the social division of labor, the
division of society into independent firms and industries from the per-spective
of classical political economy. It also develops the theoretical
implications of primitive accumulation. Third, this book offers a signifi-cantly
different interpretation of classical political economy, demonstrat-ing
that this school of thought supported the process of primitive ac-cumulation.
Finally, it analyzes the role of primitive accumulation in the
work of Marx. All of these threads come together in helping us to under-stand
how modern capitalism developed and the role of classical political
economy in furthering this process.
On Reading Classical Political Economy
Modern economists sometimes present classical political economy as a
polestar by which we can fix our bearings and, in rare cases, guide our-selves
toward the future. This approach is disingenuous. Despite the in-valuable
lessons that we can learn from studying classical political econ-omy,
economists rarely read this literature with an eye to the future or
even the past.
All too often, seemingly open-minded reviews of the past are merely a
means to justify preexisting views of the present. Some readers delight in
discovering in classical political economy anticipations of recent techni-cal
refinements, such as the theory of utility maximization. Others use
the classics to cast their contemporaries in an unfavorable light. John
Maynard Keynes, for example, contrasted the common sense of the mer-

introduction 7
cantilists with the irrelevant elegance of Professor Pigou. Still other read-ers
find the emphasis of the classics on dynamics, growth, or capital ac-cumulation
attractive.
In using classical political economy as a polestar, many economists
represent it as if it were a uniform theory accepted by all. Of course,
classical political economy was never a fixed body in space, but a hetero-geneous
collection of literature written over a period of about 100 years. If
fixity does appear, it is only in the eye of the beholder. Even if many
readers do acknowledge the diversity of the literature, they single out a
select group of classical political economists as its stars. In general, they
portray classical political economy as orbiting around a point somewhere
between Smith and Ricardo. Some hold it to be closer to one or the other,
but whatever its center, there is a general consensus as to what con-stitutes
the canonical literature.
In reality, we lack objective standards for selecting the stars of classi-cal
political economy. Writing about the entertainment industry, Moshe
Adler (1985, 208) has described a process whereby stars can emerge, even
when they do not significantly differ in talent from lesser lights:
The phenomenon of stars exists where consumption requires knowl-edge.
. . . As an example, consider listening to music. Appreciation
increases with knowledge. But how does one know about music? By
listening to it, and by discussing it with other persons who know
about it. [We are] better off patronizing the same artist as others
do. . . . Stardom is a market device to economize on learning.
Economists studying the selection of technologies have found a simi-lar
phenomenon. In the early stages of the development of a technology,
seemingly trivial accidents can determine which of several technological
paths is chosen. Once industry becomes locked into a particular tech-nological
standard, it may continue to follow that line of development
even though hindsight shows that the neglected paths might have been
superior (see Arthur 1989).
A similar process is at work in the study of classical political economy,
notwithstanding the significant variations that exist in the talents of early
political economists. Once the status of a book is initially elevated, stu-dents
are drawn into giving it a deeper consideration. A tradition gradu-ally
builds up around what becomes treated as almost sacred texts.
Readers of these canonical works are brought into a multidimensional
dialogue that includes the authors under study, their times, and the col-lective
experience of earlier generations of readers of these texts. In this

8
sense, ‘‘the real life of an author emanates from his readers, disciples,
commentators, opponents, critics. An author has no other existence’’
(Prezzolini 1967, 190; see also Latour 1987, 40).
By working and reworking these texts, each successive generation finds
new levels of meaning, some of which probably eluded even the political
economists who created them. As a result, these works acquire a cumula-tive
force—albeit highly symbolic—that calls new generations to confront
them once again. This process reinforces the stature of the ‘‘founders’’ of
political economy, thereby confirming their status as ‘‘stars.’’ Moreover,
the erection of this solid structure of scholarship facilitates analysis by
providing a cognitive map of the territory, allowing future researchers to
navigate with more confidence.
Smith’s Wealth of Nations, as we shall see, was not a particularly influ-ential
book until a generation after its publication. Once opinion leaders
found the book useful in promoting their desired political outcomes, its
popularity soared. Only then did Smith become a polestar of classical
political economy, and his work a reference point by which all others are
judged. Because of this flawed selection process, most histories of the
period studiously analyze Smith and Ricardo, along with a handful of
supposedly secondary figures. Other equally deserving economists gener-ally
escape notice altogether.
This book proposes a new reading—a new cosmology so to speak—that
remaps classical political economy. Here, the center is nearer to Sir James
Steuart and Edward Gibbon Wakefield than to Smith and Ricardo. From
this perspective, Adam Smith appears less like the sun than a moon, a
lesser body whose light is largely reflected from other sources.
This alternative cosmology is not an arbitrary rearrangement of the
stars. It highlights important lessons from classical political economy.
Within this context, Adam Smith becomes less original. His importance
appears to emanate from the vigor of his ideological project of advocating
laissez-faire and obfuscating all information that might cast doubt on his
ideology. Others, such as Edward Gibbon Wakefield and John Rae, took a
more realistic view about the nature of accumulation, but later econo-mists
set their analyses aside to create the impression of a humanitarian
heritage of political economy.
Judging from the literature of the history of economic thought, it is clear
this view of history has succeeded mightily. The Invention of Capitalism
represents a plea to correct this legacy of error and omission. From this
perspective we can see that, for all its heterogeneity, classical political
economy did manage to compress much of the varied experience of its day
into a compact body of literature that reflects the history of relations of

introduction 9
production. Hence, the study of classical political economy provides an ef-fective
vantage point for the study of the history of relations of production.
Chapter 6 analyzes the role of primitive accumulation in the works of
such early economists as Sir William Petty, Richard Cantillon, and the
Physiocrats.
Chapter 7 concentrates on the important work of Steuart, by far the
most interesting and the most incisive theorist of primitive accumulation
and the social division of labor prior to Marx. Besides seeing the implica-tions
of primitive accumulation more clearly than the other classical po-litical
economists, Steuart stood alone in his willingness to write openly
and honestly about the subject. This characteristic explains the compara-tive
obscurity of his reputation.
Next, chapters 8 through 10 are devoted exclusively to Smith, who
attempted to develop an alternative to Steuart. According to Smithian
theory, the social division of labor would evolve in a satisfactory manner
without recourse to outside intervention. This chapter demonstrates that
even Smith’s celebrated discussion of the invisible hand was developed as
a means of avoiding the challenge that primitive accumulation posed for
his system. By showing that the social division of labor would evolve
without recourse to outside intervention, Smith had hoped to put the
question of primitive accumulation to rest. Although Smith’s theory was
accepted as such, practice continued in a different manner. In fact, Smith
himself advocated practices that were not in accordance with his theory.
This chapter also indicates that Smith was far more interested in chang-ing
human behavior than he was with matters of economic development.
Chapter 9 examines how Smith attempted to distort history, sociology,
and psychology to provide confirmation of this theory of the naturally
evolving social division of labor.
Chapter 10 continues with the work of Adam Smith, who based much
of his theory on the experience of the colonies. Although Smith made
great use of the colonial experience, the colonials did not take him nearly
as seriously as the English did. The reason is not hard to fathom. In har-nessing
the story of the colonies to his ideological cart, Smith did not do
justice to the actual situation in the colonies. By tracing his analysis of the
colonies, this chapter delves deeper into the manner in which Smith pur-posely
obscured the nature of the social division of labor.
Chapter 11 continues the study of Smithian theory and practice by
comparing Smith with his friend Benjamin Franklin. This genial Ameri-can
was a man of practice rather than theory, yet his practical analysis
greatly influenced the theory of his day. Franklin’s role is especially key to
Smith’s theory of colonial development.

10
Chapter 12 continues the analysis of the relationship of classical politi-cal
economy and primitive accumulation into the age of David Ricardo and
Thomas Robert Malthus. By reading their works and those of their contem-poraries
in terms of their relationship to political economy, we provide a
new twist to the different interpretation of classical political economy.
This chapter reveals that despite the adherence to the doctrine of laissez-faire
in theory, classical political economists maintained a strong interest
in promoting policies that furthered primitive accumulation.
Chapter 13 investigates the reaction against Smith, beginning with the
relatively unknown work of Robert Gourlay and the development of his
ideas in the practical school of Wakefield, the systemic colonizer who
stressed that the social division of labor should be organized for the pur-pose
of capitalist development. The chapter concludes with an analysis of
John Rae.
Chapter 14 discusses the commonality between Smith and such later
revolutionary leaders as Vladimir Ilyich Lenin and Mao Tse-Tung.
Dark Designs
Classical political economy is the product of a stormy period, distin-guished
by the emergence of capitalist social relations. These truly mo-mentous
changes of the time do not seem to appear in the great theoretical
works of the time. Indeed, the classical political economists displayed
little interest in conveying information about the great conflicts between
capital and labor, or between capital and early precapitalist relations in
the countryside. Nonetheless, these matters were of great importance to
classical political economy.
While we catch an occasional glimpse of primitive accumulation in the
canonical works of classical political economy, for the most part, we must
read of the glaring conflicts indirectly. Our tactic is to approach classical
political economy in the way that children learn to view a solar eclipse: by
punching a small hole in a piece of paper held above another piece. The
dark design that appears on the lower paper is the shadow of an eclipse,
albeit with some refraction. The classical political economists made this
indirect approach necessary because they were generally successful in
obscuring the role of primitive accumulation in their theoretical texts.
Yet, as mentioned earlier, when we turn to their letters, diaries, and more
policy-oriented works, the importance of primitive accumulation be-comes
far clearer.
We can push our analogy of classical political economy and solar
eclipses a bit further. Both represent rare and fascinating events. Past

introduction 11
peoples have superstitiously interpreted solar eclipses as signs of im-pending
epochal change. Similarly, the titans of political economy were
thought to have been able to see over the heads of their contemporaries
into the future. In this sense, their theories foreshadowed coming changes
in the structure of society.
Both phenomena, planetary configurations found millions of miles
away and the social changes of a century or more ago, reflect important
forces that still shape our lives. Specifically, the struggle against self-provisioning
is not confined to the distant past. It continues to this day
(see Perelman 1991b). In effect, we can look at the eclipse of precapitalist
production relations in much the same fashion, with one major exception:
in the case of a solar eclipse, the brilliance of the source can destroy our
vision. In the case of classical political economy, the source has attempted
to obscure our vision.
Revising Classical Political Economy
Our classical forbearers may have been bright, but they were also fallible
human beings. They were certainly not wholly disinterested observers.
Their theories were intended to advance their own interests or those of the
groups with whom they identified. These interests colored their works,
whether or not they realized this influence themselves.
In regard to the struggle over primitive accumulation, these writers
seem to have been intentionally obscure insofar as they could, lest they
undermine their claim to generality for their theory. The struggle against
the self-provisioning of rural people cast only a light shadow across the
pages of classical political economy, a glimpse of an all-but-forgotten
way of life obliterated by the process of primitive accumulation. Conse-quently,
this process has largely gone unnoticed by modern readers of
classical political economy.
Although we find ourselves reduced to studying the shadows of this
struggle, the attempt is still worth the effort. Indeed, we will see that
classical political economy conforms to a consistent pattern of almost
always supporting positions that would work to harness small-scale agri-cultural
producers to the interests of capital.
This book may be controversial in that it contradicts the commonly
accepted theory that classical political economy offered its unconditional
support for the doctrine of laissez-faire. It questions the relative impor-tance
of the almost universally admired Smith and makes the case that
Smith and other classical authors sought to promote the process of primi-tive
accumulation. This rereading suggests that classical political econ-

12
omy followed a different project, one that contradicts the standard inter-pretation
of classical political economy.
Before turning to the main body of this work, I wish to append a caveat
about my imagery of the eclipse. By studying the shadows cast by the
classics, we must keep in mind that such images have fewer dimensions
than the object under study. One dimension that disappears from the
perspective of classical political economy concerns the social relations
between labor and capital. Writing from the comfortable heights of their
elevated social position, the classical political economists interpreted
working-class organization as mere disorder. Because of this insensitivity,
a work such as this one is necessarily imbalanced. Much attention is
given to the efforts of capital to control labor, but little is devoted to the
reverse. I leave the reader with the responsibility of estimating the actual
balance of forces.
I hope that this book succeeds in making three points. First, primitive
accumulation was an important force in capitalist development. Second,
primitive accumulation cannot be relegated to a precapitalist past or even
some imagined moment when feudal society suddenly became capitalist.
Primitive accumulation played a continuing role in capitalist develop-ment.
Third, classical political economy was concerned with promoting
primitive accumulation in order to foster capitalist development, even
though the logic of primitive accumulation was in direct conflict with
the classical political economists’ purported adherence to the values of
laissez-faire.
I recognize that the seeds of capitalism had been planted long before the
age of classical political economy, but never before and nowhere else had
the process of capital accumulation become so intense. Hopefully, The
Invention of Capitalism will throw light on the origins of that intensity.

chapter 1 The Enduring Importance
of Primitive Accumulation
Common fields and pastures kept alive a vigorous co-operative spirit in the com-munity;
enclosures starved it. In champion [sic] country people had to work to-gether
amicably, to agree upon crop rotations, stints of common pasture, the up-keep
and improvement of their grazings and meadows, the clearing of the ditches,
the fencing of the fields. They toiled side by side in the fields, and they walked
together from field to village, from farm to heath, morning, afternoon and evening.
They all depended on common resources for their fuel, for bedding, and fodder for
their stock, and by pooling so many of the necessities of livelihood they were
disciplined from early youth to submit to the rules and customs of the community.
After enclosure, when every man could fence his own piece of territory and warn
his neighbours off, the discipline of sharing things fairly with one’s neighbours was
relaxed, and every household became an island unto itself. This was the great
revolution in men’s lives, greater than all the economic changes following en-closure.
Yet few people living in this world bequeathed to us by the enclosing and
improving farmer are capable of gauging the full significance of a way of life that is
now lost.—Joan Thirsk, ‘‘Enclosing and Engrossing’’
Compulsion and the Creation of a Working Class
The brutal process of separating people from their means of providing for
themselves, known as primitive accumulation, caused enormous hard-ships
for the common people. This same primitive accumulation pro-vided
a basis for capitalist development. Joan Thirsk, one of the most
knowledgeable historians of early British agriculture, describes above the
nature of some of the harshest social and personal transformations associ-ated
with the enclosures.
Some people denounced this expropriation. Marx (1977, 928) echoed
their sentiment, charging: ‘‘The expropriation of the direct producers was
accomplished by means of the most merciless barbarianism, and under
the stimulus of the most infamous, the most sordid, the most petty and
the most odious of passions.’’
Formally, this dispossession was perfectly legal. After all, the peasants
did not have property rights in the narrow sense. They only had tradi-

14
tional rights. As markets evolved, first land-hungry gentry and later the
bourgeoisie used the state to create a legal structure to abrogate these
traditional rights (Tigar and Levy 1977).
Simple dispossession from the commons was a necessary, but not al-ways
sufficient condition to harness rural people to the labor market.
Even after the enclosures, laborers retained privileges in ‘‘the shrubs,
woods, undergrowth, stone quarries and gravel pits, thereby obtaining
fuel for cooking and wood for animal life, crab apples and cob nuts from
the hedgerows, brambles, tansy and other wild herbs from any other little
patch of waste. . . . Almost every living thing in the parish however insig-nificant
could be turned to some good use by the frugal peasant-labourer
or his wife’’ (Everitt 1967, 405).
To the extent that the traditional economy might be able to remain
intact despite the loss of the commons, a supply of labor satisfactory to
capital might not be forthcoming. As a result, the level of real wages
would be higher, thereby impeding the process of accumulation. Not sur-prisingly,
one by one, these traditional rights also disappeared. In the eyes
of the bourgeoisie, ‘‘property became absolute property: all the tolerated
‘rights’ that the peasantry had acquired or preserved . . . were now re-jected’’
(Foucault 1979, 85).
Primitive accumulation cut through traditional lifeways like scissors.
The first blade served to undermine the ability of people to provide for
themselves. The other blade was a system of stern measures required to
keep people from finding alternative survival strategies outside the sys-tem
of wage labor. A host of oftentimes brutal laws designed to under-mine
whatever resistance people maintained against the demands of wage
labor accompanied the dispossession of the peasants’ rights, even before
capitalism had become a significant economic force.
For example, beginning with the Tudors, England enacted a series of
stern measures to prevent peasants from drifting into vagrancy or falling
back onto welfare systems. According to a 1572 statute, beggars over the
age of fourteen were to be severely flogged and branded with a red-hot iron
on the left ear unless someone was willing to take them into service for
two years. Repeat offenders over eighteen were to be executed unless
someone would take them into service. Third offenses automatically re-sulted
in execution (Marx 1977, 896ff.; Marx 1974, 736; Mantoux 1961,
432). Similar statutes appeared almost simultaneously during the early
sixteenth century in England, the Low Countries, and Zurich (LeRoy
Ladurie 1974, 137). Eventually, the majority of workers, lacking any alter-native,
had little choice but to work for wages at something close to
subsistence level.

importance of primitive accumulation 15
In the wake of primitive accumulation, the wage relationship became a
seemingly voluntary affair. Workers needed employment and employers
wanted workers. In reality, of course, the underlying process was far from
voluntary. As Foucault (1979, 222) argues:
Historically, the process by which the bourgeoisie became the politi-cally
dominant class in the course of the 18th Century was masked by
the establishment of an explicitly coded and formally egalitarian
juridical framework, made possible by the organization of a parlia-mentary,
representative regime. But the development and generaliza-tion
of disciplinary mechanisms constituted the other, dark side of
these processes . . . supported by these tiny, everyday, physical mech-anisms,
by all those systems of micro-power that are essentially non-egalitarian.
Indeed, the history of the recruitment of labor is an uninterrupted story of
coercion either through the brute force of poverty or more direct regula-tion,
which made a continuation of the old ways impossible (Moore 1951).
Of course, the extractions common to traditional relatively self-sufficient
household economy kept many people at or just above the subsistence
level, but for many the market was a step backward. The disorienting
introduction of the individualistic ways of the market cut people off
from their traditional networks and created a sense of dehumanization
(see Kuczynski 1967, 70). A purported need for discipline justified the
harsh measures that the poor endured. Indeed, writers of every persuasion
shared an obsessional concern with the creation of a disciplined labor
force (Furniss 1965; Appleby 1978). Supporters of such measures typically
defended their position by invoking the need to civilize workers or stamp
out sloth and indolence. Yet capital required these measures to conquer
the household economy in order to be able to extract a greater mass of
surplus value. In fact, almost everyone close to the process of primitive
accumulation, whether a friend or foe of labor, agreed with Charles Hall’s
(1805, 144) verdict that ‘‘if they were not poor, they would not submit
to employments’’—at least so long as their remuneration were held low
enough to create substantial profits.
Employers were quick to perceive the relationship between poverty and
the chance to earn handsome profits. Ambrose Crowley, for example, set
up his factory in the north rather than the midlands, for there ‘‘the cuntry
is verry poore and populous soe workmen must of necessity increase’’
(cited in Pollard 1965, 197). This process was cumulative. An increase in
poverty begat more population, which in turn created further poverty, and
so on. In this regard, Marx (1865, 72) noted that the level of wages in the

16
agricultural districts of England varied according to the particular condi-tions
under which the peasantry had emerged from serfdom. The more
impoverished the serfs, the lower their descendants’ wages would be.
Classical Political Economy and the War on Sloth
The classical political economists joined in the chorus of those condemn-ing
the sloth and indolence of the poor. Although they applauded the
leisure activities of the rich, they denounced all behavior on the part of the
less fortunate that did not yield a maximum of work effort.
Consider the case of Francis Hutcheson—‘‘the never to be forgotten
Dr. Hutcheson,’’ as his student, Adam Smith, later described him in a
letter to Dr. Archibald Davidson (reprinted in Mossner and Ross 1977,
309)—the same Francis Hutcheson whose Short Introduction to Moral
Philosophy in Three Books (1742) seems to have served as a model for
the economic sections of Smith’s Glasgow lectures (see Scott 1965, 235,
240). A later work, his System of Moral Philosophy, exemplifies Dr.
Hutcheson’s contributions to that noble field of moral philosophy. After a
few brief notes on the need to raise prices, Hutcheson (1755, 2:318–19)
mused: ‘‘If a people have not acquired an habit of industry, the cheapness
of all the necessaries of life encourages sloth. The best remedy is to raise
the demand for all necessaries. . . . Sloth should be punished by tempo-rary
servitude at least.’’ The menacing ‘‘at least’’ in this citation suggests
that the never-to-be-forgotten professor might have had even sterner med-icine
in mind than mere temporary servitude. What else might the good
doctor recommend to earnest students of moral philosophy in the event
that temporary servitude proved inadequate in shunting people off to the
workplace?
This attitude, of course, is not unique to classical political economy. We
might ask, was there ever a nation in which the rich found the poor to be
sufficiently industrious? The universal howl of ‘‘sloth and indolence’’ can
be heard as far away as nineteenth-century Japan, to cite one example (see
T. Smith 1966, 120). However, no country seems to have gone as far as
England in its war on sloth. Indeed, writers of the time charged that a want
of discipline was responsible for criminality as well as disease. By the late
eighteenth century, even hospitals came to be regarded as a proper me-dium
to instill discipline (see Ignatieff 1978, 61ff.).
Almost poetically, Thomas Mun (1664, 193) railed against ‘‘the general
leprosy of our piping, potting, feasting, fashions, and misspending of our
time in idleness and pleasure.’’ Josiah Tucker (1776a, 44–45) employed a
military metaphor to make a similar point:

In a word, the only possible Means of preventing a Rival Nation from
running away with your Trade, is to prevent your own People from
being more idle and vicious than they are. . . . So the only War, which
can be attended with Success in that Respect, is a War against Vice
and Idleness; a War, whose Forces must consist of—not Fleets and
Armies—but such judicious Taxes and Wise regulations, as will turn
the Passion of private Self-Love into the Channel of Public Good.
Primitive Accumulation and the Eradication of Holidays
Although their standard of living may not have been particularly lavish,
the people of precapitalistic northern Europe, like most traditional peo-ple,
enjoyed a great deal of free time (see Ashton 1972, 204; see also
V. Smith 1992; Wisman 1989). The common people maintained innumer-able
religious holidays that punctuated the tempo of work. Joan Thirsk
estimated that in the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, about
one-third of the working days, including Sundays, were spent in leisure
(cited in K. Thomas 1964, 63; see also Wilensky 1961). Karl Kautsky (1899,
107) offered a much more extravagant estimate that 204 annual holidays
were celebrated in medieval Lower Bavaria.
Despite these frequent holidays, the peasants still managed to produce a
significant surplus. In English feudal society, for example, the peasants
survived even though the gentry was powerful enough to extract some-thing
on the order of 50 percent of the produce (see Postan 1966, 603). As
markets evolved, the claims on the peasants’ labors multiplied. For in-stance,
in southern France, rents appear to have grown from about one-fourth
of the yield in 1540 to one-half by 1665 (LeRoy Ladurie 1974, 117).
Although people increasingly had to curtail their leisure in order to meet
the growing demands of nonproducers, many observers still railed against
the excessive celebration of holidays. Protestant clergy were especially
vocal in this regard (Hill 1967, 145–218; see also Marx 1977, 387; Freuden-berger
and Cummins 1976). Even as late as the 1830s, we hear the com-plaint
that the Irish working year contained only 200 days after all holidays
had been subtracted (Great Britain 1840, 570; cited in Mokyr 1983, 222).
Time, in a market society, is money. As Sir Henry Pollexfen (1700, 45;
cited in Furniss 1965, 44) calculated: ‘‘For if but 2 million of working
people at 6d. a day comes to 500,000£ which upon due inquiry whence our
riches must arise, will appear to be so much lost to the nation by every
holiday that is kept.’’
Zeal in the suppression of religious festivals was not an indication that
representatives of capital took working-class devotion lightly. In some

18
rural districts of nineteenth-century England, tending to one’s garden on
the Sabbath was a punishable offense. Some workers were even impris-oned
for this crime (Marx 1977, 375–76n). Piety, however, also had its
limits. The same worker might be charged with breach of contract should
he prefer to attend church on the Sabbath rather than report for work
when called to do so (ibid.).
In France, where capital was slower to take charge, the eradication of
holidays was likewise slower. Tobias Smollett (1766, 38) complained of
the French: ‘‘Very nearly half of their time, which might be profitably
employed in the exercise of industry, is lost to themselves and the com-munity,
in attendance upon the different exhibitions of religious mum-mery.’’
Voltaire called for the shifting of holidays to the following Sunday.
Since Sunday was a day of rest in any case, employers could enjoy approxi-mately
forty additional working days per year. This proposal caused the
naive Abbe Baudeau to wonder about the wisdom of intensifying work
when the countryside was already burdened with an excess population
(cited in Weulersse 1959, 28). How could the dispossessed be employed?
Of course, changes in the religious practices of Europe were not induced
by a shortage of people but by people’s willingness to conform to the needs
of capital. For example, the leaders of the French Revolution, who prided
themselves on their rationality, decreed a ten-day week with only a single
day off. Classical political economists enthusiastically joined in the con-demnation
of the celebration of an excessive number of holidays (see
Cantillon 1755, 95; Senior 1831, 9). The suppression of religious holidays
was but a small part of the larger process of primitive accumulation.
Classical Political Economy and the Ideal Working Day
Once capital began to dislodge the traditional moorings of society, the
bourgeoisie sought every possible opportunity to engage people in produc-tive
work that would turn a profit for employers. Accordingly, classical
political economists advocated actions to shape society around the logic
of accumulation in order to strengthen the dependency on wage labor.
In the utopia of early classical political economy, the poor would work
every waking hour. One writer suggested that the footmen of the gentry
could rise early to employ their idle hours making fishing nets along with
‘‘disbanded soldiers, poor prisoners, widows and orphans, all poor trades-men,
artificers, and labourers, their wives, children, and servants’’ (Puckle
1700, 2:380; cited in Appleby 1976, 501).
Joseph Townsend (1786, 442) proposed that when farm workers re-turned
in the evenings from threshing or ploughing, ‘‘they might card,

they might spin, or they might knit.’’ Many were concerned that chil-dren’s
time might go to waste. William Temple called for the addition of
four-year-old children to the labor force. Anticipating modern Skinnerian
psychology, Temple (1770, 266; see also Furniss 1965, 114–15) speculated,
‘‘for by these means, we hope that the rising generation will be so habitu-ated
to constant employment that it would at length prove agreeable and
entertaining to them.’’ Not to be outdone, John Locke, often seen as a
philosopher of liberty, called for the commencement of work at the ripe
age of three (Cranston 1957, 425).
Others called for new institutional arrangements to ensure a steadily
increasing flow of wage labor. Fletcher of Saltoun recommended perpetual
slavery as the appropriate fate of all who would fail to respond to less
harsh measures to integrate them into the labor force (see Marx 1977,
882). Hutcheson, as we have seen, followed suit. Always the idealist,
Bishop George Berkeley (1740, 456) preferred that such slavery be limited
to ‘‘a certain term of years.’’
No source of labor was to be overlooked. For example, in a movement
that Foucault has termed ‘‘the great confinement,’’ institutions were
founded to take charge indiscriminately of the sick, criminal, and poor
(Foucault 1965, 38–65). The purpose was not to better the conditions of
the inmates but rather to force them to contribute more to the national
wealth (for a selection of citations that reflect more charitably on the early
political economists, see Wiles 1968).
Occasionally, writers of the time found signs of progress. By 1723,
Daniel Defoe (1724–26, 86; see also 493) was delighted to discover that so
much progress had taken place in Norwich that ‘‘the very children after
four or five years of age, could every one earn their own bread.’’
For classical political economy such edifying scenes of hard labor were
not common enough. To his credit, Jean-Baptiste Say (1821, 50–51; see
also Ricardo 1951–73, 8:184), generally a strong proponent of capitalist
development, penned one of the few protests of the state of affairs in
Britain in a letter to Robert Malthus:
I shall not attempt to point out the parts of this picture which apply to
your country, Sir. . . . But if social life [a term that Say used almost like
the social division of labor] were a galley, in which after rowing with
all their strength for sixteen hours out of the twenty-four, they might
indeed be excused for disliking social life. . . . I maintain no other
doctrine when I say that the utility of productions is no longer worth
the productive services, at the rate at which we are compelled to pay
for them.

20
Sadly, no other classical political economist was willing to side with Say
in this regard.
Bentham and Laissez-faire Authoritarianism
Classical political economy frequently couched its recommendations in a
rhetoric of individual liberty, but its conception of liberty was far from all-encompassing.
Liberty, for capital, depended on the hard work of common
people.
Lionel Robbins (1981, 8), a strong proponent of market society, also
alluded to this authoritarian side of laissez-faire, noting, ‘‘the necessity of
a framework of law and an apparatus of enforcement is an essential part of
the concept of a free society.’’ Earlier, he wrote, ‘‘If there be any ‘invisible
hand’ in a non-collectivist order, it operates only in a framework of delib-erately
contrived law and order’’ (Robbins 1939, 6; see also Samuels 1966).
Within this contrived law and order, workers found their rights to orga-nize
unions and even to act politically severely restricted. The entire
judicial edifice was erected with an eye toward making ownership of capi-tal
more profitable (Tigar and Levy 1977).
Max Weber (1921, 108; see also Perelman 1991a, chap. 3) once observed
that rational accounting methods are ‘‘associated with the social phe-nomena
of ‘shop discipline’ and appropriation of the means of production,
and that means: with the existence of a ‘system of domination’ [Herr-schaftsverhältniss].’’
Similarly, the rational accounting system of politi-cal
economy required a ‘‘system of domination,’’ albeit on a grander scale.
Weber concluded, ‘‘No special proof is necessary to show that military
discipline is the ideal model for the modern capitalist factory’’ (1156).
In this sense, we may see Jeremy Bentham, rather than Smith, as the
archetypal representative of classical political economy. Indeed, Ben-tham’s
dogmatic advocacy of laissez-faire far exceeded that of Smith. For
example, after Smith made the case for a government role in controlling
interest rates, Bentham (1787b, 133) caustically rebuked him with the
words, ‘‘To prevent our doing mischief to one another, it is but too neces-sary
to put bridles into our mouths.’’
Although Bentham theoretically championed laissez-faire in the name
of freedom, he was intent on subordinating all aspects of life to the in-terests
of accumulation. Bentham limited his passionate concern with
laissez-faire to those who conformed to the norms of a capitalist society; a
jarring confrontation with state power was to be the lot of the rest. Accord-ing
to Bentham, ‘‘Property—not the institution of property, but the consti-tution
of property—has become an end in itself’’ (Bentham 1952, 1:117).

Bentham was absolutely clear about the need for this ‘‘constitution of
property.’’ He realized that even though control over labor is a major
source of wealth, labor stubbornly resists the will of the capitalist. In
Bentham’s (1822, 430) inimitable language:
Human beings are the most powerful instruments of production, and
therefore everyone becomes anxious to employ the services of his
fellows in multiplying his own comforts. Hence the intense and uni-versal
thirst for power; the equally prevalent hatred of subjection.
Each man therefore meets with an obstinate resistance to his own
will, and this naturally engenders antipathy toward beings who thus
baffle and contravene his wishes.
Bentham never acknowledged any contradiction between his advocacy of
laissez-faire and his proposals for managing labor. For him: ‘‘Between
wealth and power, the connexion is most close and intimate: so intimate,
indeed, that the disentanglement of them, even in the imagination, is a
matter of no small difficulty. They are each of them respectively an in-strument
of the production of the other’’ (Bentham 1962, 48; cited in
Macpherson 1987, 88–89).
Bentham understood that the struggles to subdue the poor would spill
over into every aspect of life. He hoped to turn these struggles into profit
for himself and, to a lesser extent, others of his class. Given labor’s natural
resistance to creating wealth for those who exploited them, unfree labor
held an obvious attraction for Bentham. He designed detailed plans for his
fabled Panopticon, a prison engineered for maximum control of inmates
in order to profit from their labor.
In a 1798 companion piece to his design for the Panopticon, Pauper
Management Improved, Bentham proposed a National Charity Company
modeled after the East India Company—a privately owned, joint stock
company partially subsidized by the government. It was to have absolute
authority over the ‘‘whole body of the burdensome poor,’’ starting with
250 industry houses accommodating a half million people and expanding
to 500 houses for one million people (Bentham n.d., 369; cited in Him-melfarb
1985, 78).
Bentham planned to profit handsomely from these inmates, especially
those born in the houses, since they would then have to work as appren-tices
within the company. He rhapsodized, ‘‘So many industry-houses, so
many crucibles, in which dross of this kind [the poor] is converted into
sterling’’ (cited in Himmelfarb 1985, 80). A strict regimen, unremitting
supervision and discipline, and economies of diet, dress, and lodging
would make profits possible. Jeremy Bentham, vigorous advocate of free-

22
dom of commerce that he was, dreamed of the profits that would accrue
from the use of inmate labor:
What hold can another manufacturer have upon his workmen, equal
to what my manufacturer would have upon his? What other master is
there that can reduce his workmen, if idle, to a situation next to
starving, without suffering them to go elsewhere? What other master
is there whose men can never get drunk unless he chooses that they
should do so. And who, so far from being able to raise their wages by
combination, are obliged to take whatever pittance he thinks it most
his interest to allow? (see also Ignatieff 1978, 110; Foucault 1979)
According to classical political economy, all social conditions and all
social institutions were to be judged merely on the basis of their effect on
the production of wealth. In this spirit, Bentham recommended that chil-dren
be put to work at four instead of fourteen, bragging that they would
thereby be spared the loss of those ‘‘ten precious years in which nothing is
done! Nothing for industry! Nothing for improvement, moral or intellec-tual!’’
(cited in Himmelfarb 1985, 81).
Bentham went even further, intent on subordinating every facet of hu-man
existence to the profit motive. He even wanted to promote the ‘‘gen-tlest
of all revolutions,’’ the sexual revolution. In this regard, Bentham
was not the least concerned with furthering the bounds of human free-dom,
but with ensuring that the inmates would have as many offspring as
possible (ibid., 83). Bentham was even planning to call himself the ‘‘Sub-
Regulus of the Poor.’’ Unfortunately, because of lack of government sup-port,
his plans came to naught. As he complained in his memoirs, ‘‘But for
George the Third, all the prisoners in England would, years ago, have been
made under my management’’ (Bentham 1830–31, 96).
Alas, Bentham never succeeded in his personal goals. Perhaps he was
too greedy. Perhaps his methods were too crude. Instead, as we shall see,
capitalism found more subtle methods for harnessing labor. As a result,
today we remember Bentham as a valiant defender of the ideals of laissez-faire
rather than as the Sub-Regulus of the Poor.
Victory
Classical political economists were generally more coy about their inten-tions
than Bentham. Despite their antipathy to indolence and sloth, they
covered themselves with a flurry of rhetoric about natural liberties. On
closer examination, we find that the notion of the system of natural liber-ties
was considerably more flexible than it appeared. Let us turn once

again to Francis Hutcheson, who taught Smith about the virtue of natural
liberty. He contended that ‘‘it is the one great design of civil laws to
strengthen by political sanctions the several laws of nature. . . . The pop-ulace
needs to be taught, and engaged by laws, into the best methods
of managing their own affairs and exercising mechanic art’’ (Hutcheson
1749, 273; emphasis added). In effect, Hutcheson realized that once primi-tive
accumulation had taken place, the appeal of formal slavery dimin-ished.
Extramarket forces of all sorts would become unnecessary, since
the market itself would ensure that the working class remained in a con-tinual
state of deprivation. Patrick Colquhoun (1815, 110), a London po-lice
magistrate, noted:
Poverty is that state and condition in society where the individual
has no surplus labour in store, or, in other words, no property or
means of subsistence but what is derived from the constant exercise
of industry in the various occupations of life. Poverty is therefore
a most necessary and indispensable ingredient in society, without
which nations and communities could not exist in a state of civiliza-tion.
It is the lot of man. It is the source of wealth, since without
poverty, there could be no labour; there could be no riches, no re-finement,
no comfort, and no benefit to those who may be possessed
of wealth.
Or, as Marx (1865, 55–56) phrased it: ‘‘We find on the market a set of
buyers, possessed of land, machinery, raw materials, and the means of
subsistence, all of them, save land, the products of labour, and on the
other hand, a set of sellers who have nothing to sell except their labouring
power, their working arms and brains.’’
Later political economists disregarded the compulsion required to force
labor into the market, blithely assuming that the market alone was suffi-cient
to guarantee the advancement of the accumulation process without
the aid of extramarket forces. Workers at the time generally understood
the strategic importance of measures to foster primitive accumulation. In
this spirit, Thomas Spence, a courageous working-class advocate, pro-claimed
that ‘‘it is childish . . . to expect . . . to see anything else than the
utmost screwing and grinding of the poor, till you quite overturn the
present system of landed property’’ (cited in E. P. Thompson 1963, 805).
The system, however, was not overturned, but instead grew stronger.
Workers were forced to surrender more and more of their traditional peri-ods
of leisure (see Hill 1967; Reid 1976, 76–101). The working day was
lengthened (Hammond and Hammond 1919, 5–7). The working class, in
the person of Spence, cried out: ‘‘Instead of working only six days a week

24
we are obliged to work at the rate of eight or nine and yet can hardly
subsist . . . and still the cry is work—work—ye are idle. . . . We, God help us,
have fallen under the hardest set of masters that have ever existed’’ (cited
in Kemp-Ashraf 1966, 277; see also Tawney 1926, esp. 223). This state-ment
was eloquent enough to earn its author a sentence of three years’
imprisonment after its publication in 1803—a result typical of the fate of
those who challenged the capitalist order. Whenever the working class
and its friends effectively protested against capitalism, the silent compul-sion
of capital (Marx 1977, 899) gave way to compulsory silence.
Spence’s silencing was not completely effective. Although some merely
wrote him off as a ‘‘radical crank’’ (Knox 1977, 73), more recent studies
have demonstrated that Spence deserves a more respectful reception
(Kemp-Ashraf 1966). Indeed, Spence’s biographer asserts that Owenism
and the subsequent heritage of British socialism stands in direct line of
descent from Spence’s critique of capitalism (Rudkin 1966, 191ff.). Jour-nalists
of the time agreed with this evaluation (see Halevy 1961, 44n).
Unfortunately, the Spences of the world were unable to reverse or even
impede the process of primitive accumulation.
No society went so far as the British in terms of primitive accumula-tion.
This aspect of capitalist development is all but forgotten today. In-stead,
separated by two centuries, contemporary economists such as Mil-ton
Friedman (1962) gloss over the dark side of capitalism, ignoring the
requisite subordination, while celebrating the freedom to dispose of one’s
property. These modern economists, as we shall see, are very much mis-taken
in their interpretation of the evolution of the so-called free market.

chapter 2 The Theory of Primitive Accumulation
Analytical Preliminaries
Although primitive accumulation was a central concern to classical polit-ical
economists, the study of this concept began in confusion and later
settled into an unfortunate obscurity. The seemingly Marxian expression,
‘‘primitive accumulation,’’ originally began with Adam Smith’s (Smith
1976, 2.3, 277) assertion that ‘‘the accumulation of stock must, in the
nature of things, be previous to the division of labour.’’
Smith’s approach to original accumulation is odd, to say the least. Cer-tainly,
the division of labor is to be found throughout history. It even
exists in insect societies (see Morely 1954). Yet Smith would have us
believe that the division of labor had to wait for ‘‘the accumulation of
stock,’’ his code word for capital. Such an idea is patently false. How could
we interpret the division of labor in an anthill or a beehive as a conse-quence
of the accumulation of stock?
Marx translated Smith’s word, ‘‘previous’’ as ‘‘ursprünglich’’ (Marx and
Engels 1973, 33:741), which Marx’s English translators, in turn, rendered
as ‘‘primitive.’’ In the process, Marx rejected Smith’s otherworldly con-ception
of previous accumulation. He chided Smith for attempting to
explain the present existence of class by reference to a mythical past that
lies beyond our ability to challenge it. Marx insisted, ‘‘Primitive accumu-lation
plays approximately the same role in political economy as original
sin does in theology’’ (1977, 873). Marx’s analogy is apt. Both original sin
and original accumulation divert our attention away from the present to a
mythical past, which supposedly explains the misfortunes that people
suffer today.
In other words, any theory based on either original sin or original ac-cumulation
is both excessively and insufficiently historical. It is exces-sively
historical because it situates the subject in a remote past, discon-nected
from contemporary society. It is insufficiently historical because
it relies on a mythical treatment of the past. Etienne Balibar’s (1988, 49)
expression, ‘‘ahistorical historicism, or the historicity without history in

26
Marx’s thought,’’ is an appropriate characterization of this part of Marx’s
work.
To underscore his distance from Smith, Marx prefixed the pejorative
‘‘so-called’’ to the title of the final part of the first volume of Capital,
which he devoted to the study of primitive accumulation. Marx, in es-sence,
dismissed Smith’s mythical ‘‘previous’’ accumulation, in order to
call attention to the actual historical experience. In contrast to the ‘‘so-called’’
primitive accumulation, Marx analyzed in detail the brutality of
the actual historical experience of separating people from their means of
production in an effort to lay bare the origin of the capitalist system.
The Historical Basis of Primitive Accumulation
The contrast between Smith’s scanty treatment of previous accumulation
and Marx’s extensive documentation of the subject is striking. Marx’s
(1977, 915) survey of primitive accumulation carries us through a several-centuries-
long process, in which a small group of people brutally expropri-ated
the means of production from the people of precapitalist society
around the globe:
The discovery of gold and silver in America, the extirpation, enslave-ment
and entombment in mines of the indigenous population of that
continent, the beginnings of the conquest and plunder of India, and
the conversion of Africa into a preserve for the commercial hunting of
blackskins, are all things which characterize the dawn of the era of
capitalist production. These idyllic proceedings are the chief mo-ments
of primitive accumulation.
Marx did not limit his interpretation of primitive accumulation to iso-lated
pockets of the world. The fruits of primitive accumulation are fun-gible.
For example, he insisted that ‘‘a great deal of capital, which appears
today in the United States without any birth-certificate, was yesterday, in
England, the capitalized blood of children’’ (ibid., 920).
According to Smith, economic development progressed through the
voluntary acts of the participants. Marx (ibid., 926), in contrast, believed
that ‘‘capital comes dripping from head to toe, from every pore, with blood
and dirt.’’ Workers were ‘‘tortured by grotesquely terroristic laws into
accepting the discipline necessary for the system of wage-labour’’ (ibid.,
899). Where Smith scrupulously avoided any analysis of social relations,
Marx produced an elaborate study of the connection between the develop-ment
of capitalistic social relations and so-called primitive accumulation.
In later years, Marx displayed an impatience with those who failed to

theory of primitive accumulation 27
ground their treatment of primitive accumulation in concrete historical
analysis. For example, he chastised Nikolai Mikhailovsky’s suprahis-torical
presentation of primitive accumulation, in which the latter me-chanically
extrapolated Russia’s future from Marx’s analysis of the Euro-pean
experience of primitive accumulation (letter to the editorial board of
Otechestvenniye Zapitski, November 1877, in Marx and Engels 1975,
291–94).
Granted that primitive accumulation is a historical process rather than
a mythical event, a further question arises: Why does this process, or at
least most accounts of Marx’s treatment of it, seem to stop so abruptly
with the establishment of a capitalist society? Marx himself offered few
examples of primitive accumulation that occurred in the nineteenth cen-tury
outside of colonial lands.
In his letter to Otechestvenniye Zapitski, Marx seemed to take an al-most
Smithian position, diminishing the importance of primitive accu-mulation
by relegating it to a distant past. Marx even denigrated his chap-ter
in Capital on primitive accumulation as ‘‘this historical sketch,’’
insisting that it ‘‘does not claim to do more than trace the path by which
in Western Europe, the capitalist economy emerged from the womb of
the feudal economic system. It therefore describes the historical process
which by divorcing workers from their means of production converts
them into wage workers’’ (ibid., 293). We must read this letter in its politi-cal
context. Marx was upset that Mikhailovsky was attempting to use the
chapter on primitive accumulation to convey the impression that Russia’s
future would be mechanically determined by the ‘‘inexorable laws’’ of
capitalism (ibid.). Marx was certain that, although the nature of capital
might be unchanged, the specifics of Russian and western European devel-opment
would be quite different. Consequently, he wanted to point out to
Mikhailovsky the mistake of thinking that one could mechanically ‘‘pre-dict’’
the Russian outcome on the basis of western European experiences.
At times, Marx did propose a theoretical stance that would seem to
confine the importance of primitive accumulation to the historical past.
Lucio Colletti (1979, 130) singles out the following extended passage from
the Grundrisse:
The conditions which form its [capital’s] point of departure in pro-duction—
the condition that the capitalist, in order to posit himself as
capital, must bring values into circulation which he created with his
own labour—or by some other means, excepting only already avail-able,
previous wage labour—belongs among the antediluvian condi-tions
of capital, belongs to its historic presuppositions, which, pre-

28
cisely as such historic presuppositions, are past and gone, and hence
belong to the history of its formation, but in no way to its contempo-rary
history, i.e., not to the real system of the mode of production
ruled by it. While e.g., the flight of serfs to the cities is one of the
historic conditions and presuppositions of urbanism, it is not a condi-tion,
not a moment of the reality of developed cities but belongs
rather to their past presuppositions, to the presuppositions of their
becoming which are suspended in their being. The conditions and
presuppositions of the becoming, or the arising, of capital presuppose
precisely that it is not yet in being but merely in becoming; they
therefore disappear as real capital arises, capital which itself, on the
basis of its own reality, posits the conditions for its realization. (Marx
1974, 459–60)
In Capital, the same idea appears with a similar wording, except for the
elimination of some of the more baroque Hegelesque terminology (Marx
1977, 775). Taken very simply, Marx seems to have been suggesting that
the initial separation of workers from the means of production was a nec-essary
historical event for the establishment of capitalism. In short, prim-itive
accumulation was an essential component of what Engels (1894,
217) called the ‘‘great division of labor between the masses discharging
simple manual labour and the few privileged persons directing labour,’’
but it was irrelevant to the ongoing process of capitalism. In Capital,
Marx also generally appears to restrict the action of primitive accumula-tion
to a short period in which traditional economies converted to capital-ism.
As he wrote in Capital: ‘‘The different moments of primitive ac-cumulation
can be assigned in particular to Spain, Portugal, Holland,
France and England, in more or less chronological order. These different
moments are systematically combined together at the end of the seven-teenth
century in England’’ (Marx 1977, 915).
Was Smith then correct after all in relegating primitive accumulation to
the past—at least in the societies of advanced capitalism? We will see that
the answer is an emphatic no.
The Coexistence of Primitive and Capitalist Accumulation
Despite Marx’s words to the contrary, the overall presentation of the first
volume of Capital suggests that he rejected Smith’s approach of assigning
primitive accumulation to a distant past. Indeed, the material in his part
8, ‘‘The So-Called Primitive Accumulation,’’ does not appear to be quali-

tatively different from what is found in the previous chapter, ‘‘The Gen-eral
Theory of Capitalist Accumulation.’’
When Marx’s study of primitive accumulation finally reached the sub-ject
of Edward Gibbon Wakefield, Marx did not qualify his appreciation of
the father of modern colonial theory by limiting its relevance to an earlier
England. Instead, he insisted that Wakefield offered significant insights
into the England where Marx lived and worked (Marx 1977, 940; see also
Marx 1853, 498).
Read in this light, Marx’s letter to Mikhailovsky is also consistent with
the idea that the importance of primitive accumulation was not what it
taught about backward societies, but about the most advanced ones. In
spite of the presumptions of some authors to prove otherwise (see, for
example, Foster-Carter 1978, esp. 229), Marx (1976, 400n) himself, refer-ring
to the institutions of Mexico, contended that the ‘‘nature of capital
remains the same in its developed as in its undeveloped forms.’’
Even so, the presentation in Capital still does suggest a temporal cleav-age
between the initial moment of primitive accumulation, when capital-ists
accumulated by virtue of direct force, and the era of capitalist ac-cumulation,
when capitalists accumulated surplus value in the market.
This dichotomy might appeal to our common sense; still, it is itself rather
ahistorical.
In conclusion, at some times, Marx’s analysis of primitive accumula-tion
sometimes seems to be a process that ceased with the establishment
of capitalism. At other times, it seems to be more of an ongoing process.
What then is the source of this confusion?
The Primacy of Capitalist Accumulation in Capital
Why was Marx not more explicit about the continuity of primitive ac-cumulation?
To answer this question, recall the purpose of Marx’s ex-position
of primitive accumulation. On a theoretical level, Marx was at-tempting
to debunk Smith’s theology of previous accumulation, which
suggested that capitalists’ commanding position was due to their past
savings.
In the process, he was attempting to lay bare the historical origins of
market relations. He intended this historical analysis to refute the con-tention
of classical political economy that markets supposedly work
fairly because invisible hands somehow intelligently guide the world to-ward
inevitable prosperity and even a higher level of culture.
Marx’s depiction of primitive accumulation conveyed an overriding

30
sense of the unfairness of that altogether brutal experience. Yet, this por-trayal
stood in contradiction to the main thrust of Capital. After all,
Marx’s primary message was that the seemingly fair and objective rule of
capital necessarily leads to exploitation.
Although Marx accepted that markets were progressive in the long run,
insofar as they prepared the ground for socialism, he was convinced that
allegedly impartial market forces produced more cruelty than the crude
and arbitrary methods of primitive accumulation. To emphasize primi-tive
accumulation would have undermined Marx’s critique of capitalism.
Marx would not have wished his readers to believe that measures to
eliminate ‘‘unjust’’ instances of primitive accumulation might suffice to
bring about a good society. To have stressed the continuing influence of
primitive accumulation would have risked throwing readers off track.
Certainly, Marx did not want his readers to conclude that the ills of so-ciety
resulted from unjust actions that were unrelated to the essence of a
market society.
On the contrary, Marx insisted that the law of supply and demand, not
primitive accumulation, was responsible for the better part of the horrible
conditions that the working class experienced. As a result, he subordi-nated
his insights about primitive accumulation to a more telling critique
of capitalism; namely, that, once capitalism had taken hold, capitalists
learned that purely market pressures were more effective in exploiting
labor than the brutal act of primitive accumulation. In this sense, Marx’s
relegation of primitive accumulation to the historical past made sense. By
calling attention to the consequences of the market’s unique logic, he was
reinforcing his basic contention that piecemeal reforms would be inade-quate.
In this vein, Marx (1977, 899–900) wrote:
It is not enough that the conditions of labour are concentrated at one
pole of society in the shape of capital, while at the other pole are
grouped masses of men who have nothing to sell but their labour-power.
Nor is it enough that they are compelled to sell themselves
voluntarily. The advance of capitalist production develops a working
class which by education, tradition and habit looks upon the require-ments
of that mode of production as self-evident natural laws. The
organization of the capitalist process of production, once it is fully
developed, breaks down all resistance. The constant generation of a
relative surplus population keeps the law of the supply and demand of
labour, and therefore wages, within narrow limits which correspond
to capital’s valorization requirements. The silent compulsion of eco-nomic
relations sets the seal on the domination of the capitalist over

the worker. Direct extra-economic force is still of course used, but
only in exceptional cases. In the ordinary run of things, the worker
can be left to the ‘‘natural laws of production,’’ i.e., it is possible to
rely on his dependence on capital, which springs from the conditions
of production themselves, and is guaranteed in perpetuity by them. It
is otherwise during the historical genesis of capitalist production.
The rising bourgeoisie needs the power of the state, and uses it to
‘‘regulate’’ wages, i.e., to force them into the limits suitable to make a
profit, to lengthen the working day, and to keep the worker himself at
his normal level of dependence. This is an essential aspect of so-called
primitive accumulation. (emphasis added)
The force of the ‘‘silent compulsion’’ is more effective than the crude
methods of primitive accumulation:
the pretensions of capital in its embryonic state, in its state of becom-ing,
when it cannot yet use the sheer force of economic relations to
secure its right to absorb a sufficient quantity of surplus labour, but
must be aided by the power of the state. . . . Centuries are required
before the ‘‘free’’ worker, owing to the greater development of the
capitalist mode of production, makes a voluntary agreement, i.e. is
compelled by social conditions to sell the whole of his active life.
(ibid., 382)
Again, in describing the centralization of capital, Marx (1981, 3:609)
noted how effectively market forces had replaced primitive accumula-tion:
‘‘Profits and losses that result from fluctuations in the price of . . .
ownership titles, and also their centralization in the hands of railway
magnates . . . now appears in place of labour as the original source of
capital ownership, as well as taking the place of brute force.’’
Marx (ibid., 354) also made the connection between market forces
and primitive accumulation when he discussed the tendency of the rate
of profit to fall: ‘‘This is simply the divorce of the conditions of labour
from the producers raised to a higher power. . . . It is in fact this divorce
between the conditions of labour on the one hand and the producers on
the other that forms the concept of capital, as this arises with primitive
accumulation.’’
Here, Marx (ibid., 348) referred to ‘‘expropriating the final residue of
direct producers who still have something left to expropriate.’’ This note
is important because it indicates that Marx realized the ongoing nature of
primitive accumulation, although as I argue he wanted to suppress its
importance to highlight the ‘‘silent compulsion’’ of the market.

32
Judging by his words, Marx was also careful to avoid confusing such
‘‘financial primitive accumulation’’ with primitive accumulation proper.
Marx (ibid., 570–71) noted:
Conceptions that still had a certain meaning at a less developed state of
capitalist production now become completely meaningless. Success
and failure lead in both cases to the centralization of capitals and hence
to expropriation on the most enormous scale. Expropriation now ex-tends
here from the immediate producers to the small and medium
capitalists themselves. Expropriation is the starting-point of the capi-talist
mode of production, whose goal it is to carry it through to com-pletion,
and even in the last instance to expropriate all individuals.
No matter what his strategic reasons, Marx seems to have downplayed
the role of primitive accumulation in order to focus on modern capitalist
accumulation. Although he succeeded in that respect, this ahistoricity
obscures our understanding of the early process of capitalist development.
Specifically, by relegating primitive accumulation to the precapitalistic
past, we lose sight of the twofold time dimension of primitive accumula-tion.
First, as we shall emphasize later, the separation of people from their
traditional means of production occurred over time as capital gradually
required additional workers to join the labor force. Second, the process of
primitive accumulation was a matter of degree. All-out primitive accu-mulation
would not be in the best interests of capital. Instead, capital
would manipulate the extent to which workers relied on self-provisioning
in order to maximize its advantage.
The Theoretical Context of Primitive Accumulation
Marx’s presentation of primitive accumulation had the unfortunate con-sequence
of divorcing the process from political economy. Peter Cressey
and John MacInnes (1980, 18) made a similar point, noting:
Marx argues that primitive accumulation was a process irreducible to
the categories of political economy and explicable only in terms of
struggle and ultimately force. At first sight it appears that historical
analysis of primitive accumulation explains the initial ‘‘formal’’ sub-ordination
of labour, in that the workplace capitalist simply appropri-ates
(formally) a production process bequeathed by pre-capitalist so-ciety.
[Ultimately, the] . . . concept of the formal subordination of
labour, like Smith’s concept of previous accumulation, is not derived
from history but from political economy.

Etienne Balibar’s analysis of Marx’s use of the term proletariat rein-forces
our case for looking at the concept of primitive accumulation more
closely. Balibar noted that Marx’s Capital rarely mentions the proletariat,
but generally refers to the working class. In the first edition of the first
volume, the term only appears in the dedication to Wilhelm Wolff and the
two final sections on ‘‘The General Law of Capitalist Accumulation,’’
which concerned the law of population and the process of primitive ac-cumulation.
On only one occasion do the proletarian and the capitalist confront each
other directly in Capital. Balibar (1988, 19–20) concluded, ‘‘These pas-sages
have in common their insistence upon the insecurity characteristic
of the proletarian condition.’’ On a more general level, Balibar claimed
that Marx’s use of the term proletariat seemed to be intended to infer that
the condition of the working class was unstable, that it perpetuated the
violence associated with the transition to capitalism, and that the situa-tion
is historically untenable (ibid.).
Following Balibar, we might interpret the notion of the proletariat as an
abstract concept to describe the situation of people displaced from their
traditional livelihoods by primitive accumulation. The concept of the
proletariat abstracts from any of the specific conditions that affected these
people, with the exception of their lack of control over the means of
production, which sets the stage for the introduction of capitalist forces.
Both Balibar’s reading of the use of the word proletariat and my own un-derstanding
of Marx’s treatment of primitive accumulation suggest that
Marx obscured the phenomena of primitive accumulation in order to fo-cus
attention on the working of markets. By relegating the relevance of
primitive accumulation to the historical process of proletarianization, we
ignore the centrality of the ongoing process of primitive accumulation in
shaping the conditions of the working class.
I am convinced that we can benefit from a closer look at primitive
accumulation, without losing sight of Marx’s invaluable analysis of mar-ket
forces. In the process of investigating this subject, I will attempt to
reintegrate primitive accumulation into the structure of political econ-omy,
especially classical political economy.
Acknowledging the Scope of Primitive Accumulation
In reality, primitive accumulation did not suddenly occur just before the
transition to European capitalism. Nor was it confined to the countryside
of western Europe. Primitive accumulation may be seen as occurring even
well before the age of capitalism.

34
For example, land was already scarce for the majority of people during
the Middle Ages. According to M. M. Postan (1966, 622–23):
about one-half of the peasant population had holdings insufficient to
maintain their families at the bare minimum of subsistence. This
meant that in order to subsist the average smallholder had to supple-ment
his income in other ways. . . . [I]ndustrial and trading activities
might sustain entire villages of smallholders. . . . Most of the oppor-tunities
for employment must, however, have lain in agriculture. . . .
[I]n almost all the villages some villagers worked for others.
Other factors reinforced the pressure of land scarcity. For example, the
twelfth-century Danes levied tribute from the British. This extortion was
not primitive accumulation, since it was not intended to coerce workers
into the labor market and foster market relations. However, it did impel
Britain to monetize its economy in a way that bore some resemblance
to primitive accumulation (Sohn-Rethel 1978, 107). Similarly, medieval
usury, often simply dismissed as a parasitic intrusion into the economy,
prodded the economy to advance (Marx 1967, 3:596–97).
The process of primitive accumulation does not merely extend back-ward
before the epoch of classical political economy. It lasted well into
more modern times. In England, as well as in the other countries of ad-vanced
capitalism, the conversion of small-scale farmers into proletarians
continued throughout the nineteenth century and into the twentieth.
This transformation involved more than the ‘‘silent compulsion’’ of mar-ket
forces. In the case of the destruction of small-scale farming in the
United States, the federal government was central in developing the trans-portation
and research systems that tipped the balance in favor of large-scale
agriculture (see Perelman 1977; 1991b).
The continuity of primitive accumulation stands in stark contrast to its
usual image as the one-time destruction of the peasant economy, the
immediate effect of which was to create a society with capitalists on the
one side and workers on the other. This perception is understandable, but
misleading. Indeed, on the eve of capitalism, the majority of people were
peasants or at least had some connection to farming.
Moreover, primitive accumulation was not limited to agriculture. It
extended across many, if not all, sectors of the economy (Berg 1986, 70). It
took place in the city as well as the countryside. After all, urban people
still provide for themselves directly in a multitude of ways other than the
growing of food. Depriving people of these means of provision forces a
greater dependence on the market just as surely as restricting their access
to the means of food production.

Take a relatively modern example. Packing people into crowded urban
quarters left little space for doing laundry. As a result, people become de-pendent
on commercial laundries. After World War II, the ability of the
typical U.S. family to produce for its own needs continued to diminish,
despite the widespread availability of household appliances, such as wash-ing
machines, that should have made many types of self-provisioning
easier. Likewise, Paul Sweezy (1980, 13) interprets Japan’s huge enter-tainment
sector as a partial result of people being forced to live in such
cramped quarters that they are unable to socialize in their homes.
The need to purchase such services compels people to sell more labor.
We see the impact of this pressure reflected in the recent increase in the
number of women in the labor force. Gabriel Kolko (1978, 267) calculates
that the share of life years available for wage labor for the average adult
has expanded from 39 percent in 1900 to 44.4 percent in 1970, despite
rising education levels, better child labor laws, and a shorter workweek.
Since that time, work has demanded a rapidly escalating share of the
typical family’s time. Juliet Schor (1991, 29) estimates that the average
person worked 163 more hours in 1987 than in 1969.
This process can feed on itself. Because people have to earn more wages
to compensate for the increased difficulty of providing for certain of their
own needs, they have less time to do other sorts of work on their own,
inducing families to transfer still more labor from the household to the
commercial sector. Child care centers are an obvious outcome of this
process. In addition, the fast-food industry is predicated on the difficulty
of working a job and performing a multitude of other household chores in
the same day.
The foregoing discussion suggests that wage labor and nonwage labor
are, indeed, inextricably linked. The analysis of one category necessitates
consideration of the other. As we shall see later, the concept of the social
division of labor enhances our understanding of this mutual interplay
of wage and nonwage labor. For now, we need only keep in mind our
modern-day examples of goods and services that were once produced
within the household, which became commodities sold by commercial
firms.
This new arrangement is related, at least in part, to the pattern of own-ership
of the means of creating these goods and services in the household.
Formally, the lack of ownership of a workspace for doing laundry is no
different from the lack of ownership of the parcel of land on which a
household once grew its own food. In either case, the denial of ownership
to a particular means of production creates a change in the mix of wage
and nonwage labor.

36
Ignoring Balibar’s warning about the careless use of the word prole-tariat,
we could interpret this restructuring of the life of a modern house-hold
as a contemporary variant of the process of primitive accumula-tion,
whereby the mass of people working for wages has increased. In this
sense, the concept of primitive accumulation is closely bound up with
that of the social division of labor.
Classical Political Economy and Primitive Accumulation
Even though Marx muted his analysis of the continuing nature of primi-tive
accumulation, he was abundantly clear that primitive accumulation
resulted in momentous changes in social relations that were central to
creation of the capitalist system (see Dobb 1963, 267). Marx’s lesson was
lost on most later economists. They were content to treat the Industrial
Revolution as if it were merely the introduction of superior methods of
production. In contrast, the classical political economists saw primitive
accumulation as a means of radically reordering the social division of
labor, which they recognized as a precondition of the creation of a pro-letariat.
Along this line, Marx (1977, 764), in writing about primitive
accumulation, proposed the formula: ‘‘Accumulation of capital is . . .
multiplication of the proletariat.’’
We shall see that we can express the classical theory of primitive accu-mulation
as a model that resembles a crude proto-Marxian model stripped
of the dialectic. In analyzing this model, keep in mind that Marx began by
taking the categories of classical political economy as he found them (see
Perelman 1987, chap. 4). By investigating them more fully, he was able to
invest the typically static, undialectical categories of classical political
economy with a dynamic, dialectical quality.
We will try to follow the same tradition in our study of the classical the-ory
of primitive accumulation. The classical political economists make
this task considerably easier. Compared to their analysis of the categories
of profits or wages, they adopted a far more dynamic, almost dialectical
approach to their analysis of primitive accumulation. Carrying out such
an analysis of the classical theory of primitive accumulation has a twofold
importance: it reveals a side of classical political economy that previously
has gone unnoticed; and it reminds us that primitive accumulation is an
ongoing process.
Even modern commentaries on primitive accumulation do not do the
topic full justice. Like Marx, most contemporary references relegate the
concept to a distant past, except perhaps in the case of the proletarianiza-tion
that the less-developed countries of Africa, Asia, and Latin America

are experiencing. Consequently, the separation of workers from their
means of production is implicitly assumed to be a static, once-and-for-all
event.
Since the classical political economists grounded their discussions of
primitive accumulation in a dynamic framework, scrutiny of the classics
has more to offer than more modern commentaries on the subject of
primitive accumulation. To some extent, the deficiencies of these com-mentaries
may be understandable. Marx himself often wrote about primi-tive
accumulation with an air of finality and possibly even with a touch of
Smithian mythology. For example, the first mention of the concept of
primitive accumulation in Capital appears in chapter 23, ‘‘Simple Repro-duction’’
(Marx 1977, 714). At this point, Marx had to address the ques-tion:
How does the system come to be structured into capital and labor?
He responded: ‘‘From our present standpoint it therefore seems likely that
the capitalist, once upon a time, became possessed of money by some
form of primitive accumulation’’ (Marx 1977, 714).
Marx’s uncharacteristic ‘‘once upon a time,’’ which sounded as unreal
as Smith’s mythical history, was obviously provisional. The words ‘‘from
our present viewpoint’’ also suggest that a more thorough analysis would
be forthcoming. For reasons already discussed, Marx never provided that
thoroughgoing critique. Instead, we find only history.
Yet primitive accumulation remains a key concept for understanding
capitalism—and not just the particular phase of capitalism associated
with the transition from feudalism, but capitalism proper. Primitive ac-cumulation
is a process that continues to this day. Thus, we must carry
the history of primitive accumulation through the epoch of classical po-litical
economy by connecting this concept with Marx’s notion of the
social division of labor.

The Invention of Capitalism - Michael Perelman

The Invention of Capitalism - Michael Perelman

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